


The Blame Game

by landy67



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Fighting, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22690132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/landy67/pseuds/landy67
Summary: TK Strand really shouldn't be turned on by Carlos Reyes arresting people.He also should stop getting into bar fights.Or, a shameless fluff fest derived from the fact that Carlos would definitely blame himself if TK got hurt.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes (9-1-1 Lone Star)/TK Strand
Comments: 17
Kudos: 515





	The Blame Game

Tyler Kennedy Strand has, albeit late, finally decided what his New Year’s Resolution is: to stop getting his shit rocked in a bar fight. The first one, and he would be the first to admit it, was entirely his fault. The most recent one was entirely not his fault and he would defend that stance vehemently once his vision stopped dancing and the ringing in his ears quieted down.

  
It started off as a simple night. At the end of their shift, the 126 decided to grab a beer and dance a little at their usual place. Normal, right? Carlos said he would join them after he finished some paperwork so for the moment, TK was just sipping some mineral water while his dad line danced with Michelle alongside Grace and Judd. Marjan and Paul were off in the corner talking about something while Mateo relentlessly and hopelessly flirted with some girls.  
It was completely, utterly normal.

  
Until some greasy drunk and his buddy started getting a little too mouthy with TK’s favorite bartender, Carly. That wasn’t uncommon, unfortunately. Carly was used to it and she could easily dismiss the guy, but these idiots were persistent. Their comments just kept getting more and more vulgar and TK, the brave and reckless idiot that he was, decided to speak up.

  
“Hey man, you...you really shouldn’t say that,” he commented casually as he leaned against the bar, staring down at the roughed up wooden top as if it was the most interesting art piece in the world.

  
“Why the fuck not? This is America. It’s called freedom of speech, bitch!” the guy slurred and TK nearly rolled his eyes as he drew himself up to look him in the eyes.

  
“Because it makes you sound like the asshole you are and you’re never going to get a girl with such a shitty personality, big guy.”

  
TK really should have seen it coming. The hulking drunk’s fist landed neatly on his right eye and he was ninety percent sure that crack that echoed in his ears was the sound of his nose breaking. He shook his head to clear up the fog that was currently enveloping him and by the time he could see clearly, Judd had the guy’s buddy in a chokehold as Grace stood off to the side approvingly. Paul was holding Marjan back with one arm and was gripping TK’s dad’s shoulder with the other. Mr. Drunken Asshole, meanwhile, was currently being thrown onto the ground and handcuffed by a very livid looking Carlos Reyes.

  
And TK really shouldn’t be finding it hot yet here he was, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat as he watched the man’s uniform stretch deliciously over his broad shoulders. Carlos growled something low in his throat that sounded something akin to a threat and wow, yeah, TK really shouldn’t be turned on right now.  
“-an you hear me? TK!” Michelle snapped, bringing him back to Earth. The young man let out a soft sound of discontent as the pain finally started to make itself known. Michelle grimaced at the sight of his face and she shouted something to his dad about grabbing her first aid kit out of her car. Everything started happening so fast and there was so much noise. TK grabbed his ears in an attempt to quiet everything. In a flash, Owen was helping him outside and into the cool, Austin spring air.

  
“We might have to take him to the hospital, just to be sure,” Michelle murmured. “Is that okay, TK?”  
“You’re the expert,” he mumbled out, his vision starting to swim again. His dad shot him a concerned look and nodded at Michelle. To be honest, he doesn’t remember all that happens after that.

  
What he does remember is finally curling up on the couch in his living room about six hours later. A fractured nose, two black eyes, a concussion, and a shit ton of pain was the prognosis. He settled back onto the couch with Advil coursing through his veins and TK was not looking forward to his dad waking him up every three hours, as per doctor’s orders.

  
He was very pleased, however, to be woken up by a concerned Carlos Reyes who looked positively delicious in his button down shirt and jeans. Before TK could even open his mouth to speak, Carlos had a gentle grasp on his chin and was tilting his face up and down and side to side.

  
“Looks like it hurts,” the cop said quietly with a hint of guilt in his tone.

  
“Does hurt but eh, guys dig bruises apparently.”

  
The attempt at humor fell flat apparently because Carlos sent him such a deadpan look that TK felt like he was nine again, being scolded for pulling the dog’s tail.

  
“I should have been there,” Carlos grunted. “It’s my fault.”

  
“It’s your fault that his fist landed in my face?”

  
Carlos winced at the phrasing of his statement and TK instantly regretted it. He began to push himself into a sitting position and Carlos was instantly helping him, his hands sliding over the thin cotton of his t-shirt.

  
“You’re really not going to blame yourself for some drunken douchebag hitting me, okay? I won’t let you.”

  
“If I had been th-”

  
TK cut his protest off with a soft kiss. As he pulled back, Carlos’s grip tightened on his waist and he found his lips being captured once more and then again and again until he was dizzy for a very good reason this time.

  
“What happened, happened and now I get to have a very hot cop at my beck and call so really, I think I won this one,” TK gasped out as Carlos’s lips trailed down his jaw and neck and collarbone.

  
Carlos growled low in his throat again which, unfortunately, reminded TK of the guy that punched him. He asked Carlos about the guy’s outcome and the cop suddenly became quiet as his eyes shifted around.

  
“He’s out on bail for drunk and disorderly conduct and you can choose to press for assault. Got a pretty nasty shiner from falling into the bar.”

  
“Falling into the bar?”

  
“Next person who touches you like that will fall into a bar more than once,” Carlos bit out. TK smirked, his lips finding that small spot on the hollow of his throat. A soft whimper fell past Carlos’s lips as he pulled the smaller man into his lap. “Do you need anything?” Carlos asked, his dark eyes searching TK’s bruised and busted face with such a gentle look that TK felt his heart physically tighten.

  
“Well, now that you mention it...I am kinda hungry.”

  
Carlos grinned and dropped a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before he settled TK back on the couch and made his way to the kitchen. “Let’s see what the Strands have in their kitchen.”

  
Tyler Kennedy Strand would like to amend his New Year’s Resolution. He would definitely continue getting his shit rocked in a bar fight, but only if the gorgeous man standing in his kitchen was there to defend him. Because he would be entirely honest, he was definitely turned on by watching Carlos take down guys.

  
And he wasn’t ashamed of it one bit.

**Author's Note:**

> if you want me to write more 911: Lone Star and/or Tarlos stuff, leave a comment with a request!


End file.
